


Facets of Stone

by FoxRafer



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Back to Middle-Earth Month, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for B2MeM Challenge I22 on my 'Art Supplies' Bingo card</p>
    </blockquote>





	Facets of Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for B2MeM Challenge I22 on my 'Art Supplies' Bingo card

One night over a tankard of ale, Pippin told Sam he sometimes defined their recent adventures by the stone they encountered along the way. It was an off-the-cuff remark, mostly designed to rile Sam and his passion for "all things green." But later he couldn't get the idea out of his mind, and over time began to create an impression of the variety of stones, none of which, now that he was really thinking about it, were actually the same at all.

Bilbo's trolls were frightening, despite being frozen in time. Frodo was dying and they were being chased by nightmares. Seeing a childhood story come to life did not conjure warm feelings or happy memories, but rather a redoubling of his efforts to keep his fear at bay.

The stone of Moria felt oppressive, despite the vastness of the space or the beauty in the carving. Knowing an entire mountain stood above him, that there were miles between him and the sky, was like an anvil slung round his shoulders. And yet the idea of this great underground city being built by beings not so much taller than himself filled him with admiration and awe.

The majesty of the Argonath made him feel small and insignificant. Traveling in the world of men and elves had been bewildering at times, challenging nearly always. But he'd never felt so inconsequential as he did upon seeing the immense statues, guardians to the grandeur of their kingdom. He'd gaped in wonder, amazed that such things could exist.

But the cool stone of Minas Tirith gleaming against the mountain, standing like a beacon across the Pelennor - that stone felt welcoming, inviting. Walking along it's streets and alleys, so different in every way from the rolling green of the Shire, he felt a sense of kinship, of camaraderie. He gave his service to honor Boromir, and later for the love of Faramir, and now he would gladly defend the white towers against any enemy as much as he would defend his own home.

He played with his theory for weeks, becoming ever more grateful for every ounce of rock, for the lessons they taught him about the world and himself. Of course there was much more than stone to define their Fellowship, to define who he'd become, but he liked the idea of something so solid, so strong, being a significant part of it.


End file.
